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“In Anticipation”

In anticipation of a crash,
I write you now
to soothe you,
through and through,
as I'm so known to do.
And my ashes
are breathed in
by the clean up crew
and you watch your tv
or whatever you stream it
through, with your Hulu.
I'm nowhere now,
I'm a sunshining stew;
a rubik's cube
you can solve,
peeling back my layers
that stick, now,
to the clouds. But how?
Am I dripping up or down?
Is there heaven for me
or even for you?
You were better than me
at some things, true?
But I was always
a master clown;
naked but for my tatoo
of the man you never wanted
to crush so cruel.
In anticipation, now,
of what I am
in retrospect;
does it even matter
what words I choose
to end with?
No, it can not.
In anticipation
of you reading this,
please know this true;
I've resigned myself
to vapor and mist
or whatever comes next.
In anticipation of
sunrises I'm never to see
through the garbage man's
clatter, hauling all our
waste.
Is this wasted now?
I don't believe
anticipation
can change
what's about to take place;
but it can help explain
why we're asleep
and then awake.
In anticipation
of a crash,
I cannot stop my feet
from moving into line;
no one to take my place.